


Cold and Colder

by Forevernearyou



Series: A Dom and A Diabetic [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Bottom Zayn, Caning, Cold, Diabetes, Diabetic!Zayn, Disability, Dom Liam, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensation Play, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Subspace, Temperature Play, Top Liam, face fucking, ice cubes, jesus fuck is it cold, kinda has a plot but not really, safewords (kinda), sub!zayn, type one diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forevernearyou/pseuds/Forevernearyou
Summary: Liam loves taking Zayn down into the depths of subspace, especially when Zayn has been running on empty for weeks and needs it. It's an added bonus when he gets to try something new, and Liam doesn't mind taking care of Zayn afterwards, Liam would say he's quite partial to it, actually.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to post this on World Diabetes Day in honour of anyone who is personally affected by this desease and those who are part of a support network for someone that has been diagnosed.  
> The link here is a conversion chart for U.K./US blood glucose levels, in general, - good number is between 4.2(76)~7.2(130). Let me know if you have any questions. All the love,  
>   
> http://www.diabeteschart.org/mgmmol.html

Liam was observant, there’s no denying or arguing against it. It’s something that has been programmed into his genes and passed down for generations and Zayn hated it. Okay, so maybe Zayn was truly grateful for it, but he usually did his best to make a joke and feign irritation. And really Liam only says something because he’s concerned.

Concerned that Zayn is going to work himself into an early grave. He knows if he can take Zayn down for an evening, even a few hours, it’ll reset his system, give him a fair shot at getting through the week. Because Liam knows it’s going to be a particularly difficult week at work, with the way his company was having another wave of redundancy he's been absolutely mental the last few days. Li’s been recording on and off for the last month, so he’s home more a little less often than before be he can see the evidence of the effects the stress is having on Zayn. There’s take away containers resting in every crevice of the house, cups from starbucks in the bin that have been marked to receive three shots of espresso and Liam wanted to draw the line when he saw a messenger bag overflowing with file folders on the sofa next to Zayn when he walked in earlier that week. Zayn is a big supporter of leaving his work at work and home at home.

“I’d like to have you to myself this evening, if possible.” Liam announced as he places dinner in front of Zayn Tuesday night, “I know you’ve brought work home to do, but I haven’t gotten to have you in so long.”

“Li, I can’t. Not tonight. The last wave is supposed to be in a week, I don’t have the time.”

“Honey, you’ve brought work home with you. You haven’t had a proper meal beside the ones I make for you in the last, what, two weeks? You’ve been sleeping less than four hours a night, love. You can’t keep going on like this, if even for another week.”

“Truly, I’m sorry that you’ve had to cook a few evening meals round here in the past month, Li. You're not going to sweep in here and act like taking me down will provide me with job security. Go on and have a wank in the loo if you’re that desperate.” Zayn is pushing away from the table in an effort to leave when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“This isn’t about me getting off, Zayn, this is about you taking care of yourself. I’m just worried about you.”

“Jesus, Li, if I wanted a mum to tell me to sleep more and eat healthier I would've gone home!”

“I’m sorry to’ve even said anything then. Sit down and eat.”

“Sorry to’ve even said something! I’ll sit and eat when I bloody well choose to.” Zayn scoffs, shrugging the hand from his shoulder and making his way to his office once he retrieves the paperwork from his bag.

Liam's not exactly proud of it, but he waits most of the evening before going to bed. He's trying to give Zayn some space and time to get his work done, trying to support him without encouraging him to work too much. He doesn't mean to make his boyfriend sleep in the guest room, but when Liam finally turned in round half two, Zayn’s side of the bed is empty and his pillow gone.

The house is empty in the morning when Li got up, a note on the work top next to the kettle left behind for him:

 _I’ll be home round 6.30 today. I can cook tonight._  
_~Z xx._  
  
Still angry, Liam thinks to himself, but it's not as bad as it could be. If Zayn is proper cross, Liam would have gotten a note with no capitalization or punctuation, because Liam knows that’s how Zayn shows his anger - in the small, non-verbal ways - it would’ve been signed with all of his first name, too, and there wouldn’t’ve been two xx’s at the end. So Liam goes about his day. He calls up an old mate and gets some studio time set up last minute. He goes for a run, showers and heads to work, after eating some breakfast and sending a text to Zayn.

‘I saw your note, I should get back from the studio round 7, I could grab some take away if you want?’

There’s a bubble with three dots that appears for a minute before they’re gone but brought right back, Liam thinks there’s a snarky remark just waiting for him, but he gets a copy of the note left for him this morning, sans capitalization and punctuation,

 **‘i will be home round 630 i can cook tonight -zayn.’** is what it reads and Liam knows he shouldn't’ve pushed at all.

There’s the smell of garlic in the air as Li walks in on Wednesday. He takes off his coat and toes off his shoes by the front door and calls out to his boyfriend. He isn't surprised, when he walks into the kitchen to see his partner bent over the worktop, his laptop in front of him, a folder open on one side and a glass of wine on the other. Liam didn't even get a response when he kisses him hello.

“Hey babe, how was work?”

“Fine, busy. I poured you a glass,” he’s referring to the wine sitting out on the breakfast bar, “Food should be ready soon.”

He’s typing on his computer a few seconds after that and tunes the rest of the world out until the timer on the microwave goes off. Dinner is quiet and there doesn’t seem to be much for Liam to bring up when Zayn is so keen on keeping silent. The night is similar to the previous, with Zayn working until the early hours and Liam occupying himself with telly programmes he doesn't really want to watch. Though Zayn does join Liam in their bed that night, it's sometime after 3 am and before 5.30, when there’s an alarm screaming for someone to turn it off. Zayn climbs out of bed, slower than he has all week and makes it into the shower before dressing for the day and running out the door. Liam suspects he paused only long enough to write a note on the worktop beside the kettle before he's scurrying off to his tube station. The notes are something they do every morning when they're with each other. Whenever he's he first to leave the house, liam will find a note somewhere on the bottom level, every morning without fail - even if he’s three hours late to work and him and Li are in a fight, it’s more sacred to them than their 489 day snap streak together. On Thursday morning it reads:  
  
_I’ll be home later than usual tonight, maybe round 7.45? Let me know if you want me to cook._  
_~Z xx._  
  
Liam texts him as soon as he sees the note, that no, Liam can cook for tonight and that he understands that Zayn’ll be home late. He doesn’t necessarily think he is wrong about what he said to his boyfriend, but Liam does understand that he should have used more tact and maybe he should’ve been a bit more understanding while he was a proverbial pot calling a kettle black. It’s not well received by anyone, let alone Zayn. His message goes unanswered, but Liam is well aware of the fact that Zayn has more than likely seen it by mid day, he constantly works with his mobile on his desk.

Liam doesn’t want to be right, he hates that he’s right about this really, but he’s not surprised that eventually everything fell apart for Zayn. Liam gets a text a near half four that says he's already on the tube on his way home and asks that Liam prepares for him. It isn't promising that Zayn had given him warning, especially when he had plans of staying at work even later than he had been the last few days. Liam responds simply, affirming he got the message and that he will indeed be ready. In the twenty minutes before Zayn arrives at their door, Liam turns the aircon up on the second level and puts on the kettle, along with putting pasta on the hob to cook. They’ll need some time for Zayn to relax from the panic he is in and Liam wants their room to be positively freezing by the time they start. He wants this to be the best it possibly can be for his boy, he deserves it after the month he’s so unjustly been suffering.

Zayn thinks the ride home is one of the longest things he’s ever experienced, the elevator ride down from his office to the lobby a close second. He swears the door gained two stone since he’s last used it this morning on his way out, the chair he dumps himself in may just collapse as his sudden weight demands it’s integrity. His hearing is a bit muffled as a plate of pasta is settled in front of him along with a steaming mug of tea. He makes a go for his fork almost immediately, he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

And now that he’s thinking about it, there wasn’t time this morning. So by breakfast this morning he really means dinner last night. And by dinner last night, he well and truly means the three bites of chicken and few green beans he ate before closing himself in his office. It's not something he'll be admitting to Liam anytime soon.

There’s a hand slapping at his own, though, and Zayn looks up to see Liam wearing a disapproving look and offering him a black case. Zayn probably would have muttered a ‘bugger off’ and continued on with his meal if this wasn’t so clearly a cry for help. But it is, so he takes the case and goes through the ever repeating process of testing his blood.

Pulling a strip from the cylinder,  
inserting it into the machine,  
waiting for the beep,  
pricking his finger,  
squeezing a drop of blood,  
depositing it on the strip.

When he is done, a 4,8 appears on the screen and he turns it for Liam to see. If he were to be honest, he’s surprised that such a good number came up, he was prepared for something a lot higher than that. He won’t be honest, though, he just wants to eat and have Liam hurt him.

They sit in silence for a while and Zayn assures himself that he won’t be the first to speak. He’s done his part, he's balled up and asked for Li’s help; Liam needs to step up to the plate on this one. Once they’re done eating, Liam clears both plates and sets a bottle of water down in front of Zayn, a silent command to drink it implied and Zayn takes the direction with open arms. When Liam comes back a few minutes later, Zayn’s shot kit in hand, he can't force himself look in the man’s eyes.

“Just to be absolutely clear here, Zayn, what do you want from me tonight.”

His eyes studies the floor beneath him. Zayn has to answer this question all the time, and every single time his throat tightens and he can’t speak. It’s almost as if a vice was clamping down on his vocal chords and he can't get the sounds out. “I- I, please, Li.”

“No, Zayn. Words, complete sentences.You know how this goes, love.”

“To take control. To take me down. I want you to make me stop thinking about anything but pleasing you.” his eyes won't look up to where Liam was standing above him.

“Good, babe. Such a good job. You ready to start, then?” Liam asks, shaking the small black canvas bag in his hands. Zayn’s eyes snapped up, only then recognising the shot kit.

The times that they play always start out the same. Liam never rushes it, and he certainly never allows Zayn to bypass anything. They test his blood together, eat a little something, and make sure they are both plenty hydrated. And once that was settled, Liam gives him an injection they agreed on. It is a way to transfer the power, almost. For Zayn to relinquish control over his own body in a very literal way, and for Liam to assume the responsibility of taking care of Zayn in such an intimate task. Liam steers him in the direction of the loo then, where he gave Zayn instructions for the night. Where Zayn should have himself at what time and how he is to be positioned.

“I was thinking seven units for the pasta and tea, what’re your thoughts?”

“I put sugar in my tea, Sir, there were three shots of espresso in my coffee this morning and I've been very stressed. I would probably do nine, but it also depends on what you have planned.”

”Nine, then,” Liam’s supplies with a nod  

Liam hardly ever argues with the dose that Zayn suggests for himself, unless it's when he's already down and recommending something that Liam knows for sure to be absolutely wrong. It’s not like his boyfriend to be reckless with his health for any reason. So Liam pulls the plunger back on the syringe before pushing nine units of air into the vial, flipping it over to pull out nine units of insulin. He taps on it two or three times to rid the system of air bubbles and decides that it’s ready. Pulling up Zayn’s left sleeve, he uses an alcohol swab to disinfect the area before pressing the needle into flesh. He could see the wince of pain on Zayn's face, hear the hiss of air leave his mouth, but he persevered, pushing down on the plunger until the injection was gone. He pulled the needle out, capping it quickly before kissing Zayn's forehead and putting the supplies away.

“Make sure you use the loo before we get started, yes? I want you kneeling by your side of the bed on the pillow I put down for you. Strip down to your pants and take care of your clothes. Do not touch anything else. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Liam.”

“Good.” Li purrs. “I'll be up in fifteen minutes. You may go now.”

Zayn nods quickly and dismisses himself up the stairs. He is quick to use the toilet and pull his clothes off, he wants to have some time on his knees to work further into his headspace. It's sometimes a battle for him, to relinquish control, to take orders with no questions. It isn't something he normally does and there's always something holding him back from doing it if he doesn't prepare himself first. His clothes are quickly discarded to the hamper and bloody hell, Li must've turned off the heat or summat because he's shivering already and he wants to wrap himself under the blankets instead of kneeling beside them. He doesn’t though, he briefly thinks about adjusting the thermostat before he remembers Liam directing him not to touch anything in the room but the lid to the hamper, so he sinks to his knees and ignores the voice in his head telling him to change the temperature.

And once he’s in position, he doesn’t move. He focuses on the steady beating of his heart and the in and out of his breath and counts. Three in, hold two, three out, hold for two, repeat. He feels like it’s been more than fifteen minutes, that Liam should’ve been here already to take him out of his head. But he’s not to move, not even to look up at the clock on his bedside table. His hands are resting in the small of his back, gently overlapping but not quite clasped with his palms facing outward and open; his knees are spread just a bit further than his shoulders rest and his bum is lifted a few centimetres off his heels; his chin is just a few degrees above horizontal with his eyes cast down at the carpet.

Liam usually tells Zayn how beautiful he looks upon entering the room when he’s positioned like this, and Zayn thinks he’d be disappointed if Li didn’t say anything today. Especially when he’s just about shivering in the cold with only his pants on.

Li takes his time downstairs, putting bits and bobs in their respective places on the bottom level and collecting the rubbish bins from the kitchen and loo to discard in the bigger bin out back. He does the washing up from tea and gathers a few things for the evening before he ascends the staircase. He doesn't speak a word to the kneeling boy when he enters the room, but he does keep an eye on him. Zayn’s eyes don't even flinch as Li opens the door and moves about, a skill that has been mastered long ago and Liam doesn’t ever know if he will get used to it. He puts some things down on their chest before going to bend down next to his boy.

“You look beautiful tonight, my boy.” Liam says, pulling fingers across the lean muscles of his shoulders, “Tell me your rules for tonight.”

“Stop light system, green is good, yellow is we need to talk and adjust, red is stop. Purple if I feel like my blood isn’t quite right. Did you- not that I think you forgot, Sir, I just want to make sure you have the glucose tabs in your drawer, and my meter, s’it up here, Sir?”

“It is. I've got everything. Your meter, glucose tabs, Gatorade, fruit snacks and a glucagon if you need it. You're safe tonight, you can go as far as you'd like.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“What else, darlin’?”

“I speak when spoken to and I answer questions that are asked of me. There's nothing wrong with needing to take a break, for any reason. If I go below 3.3 or above 16.7, we stop for the night. There's nothing wrong with needing to stop. If you choose to gag me, I have at least one hand free. Three snaps is my safe signal. When you take out the gag, immediately I tell you my colour. From there, according to my colour, we adjust, stop, or take care of my blood sugar."

Liam takes Zayn's silence as completing anything he wants to say before they begin. He stands again and continues to walk round the kneeling boy in a circle. “How long’ve you been waiting to ask me to do this, huh? Did you want it when I asked you on Tuesday?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It didn't feel like it usually does when I need this. I guess I didn't know that I needed it.”

“You just couldn’t admit that you need me. You couldn’t ask for my help, could you? Even when I was offering it to you.”

“It wasn’t like that, Sir. I just, I was so so busy. And it, I just, I was so worried about the wave. I didn’t think I had time, I didn’t think I was going to be safe, SIr.”

“Oh, but there was time. You could’ve avoided the last two day of running on no sleep and jittery hands from all the coffee you’ve been drinking. If you just let me take you, but you thought I was suggesting this for selfish reasons.” There’s a smirk playing on Liam’s face, he’s been waiting for this for a wihile. He’s been planning this scene for months, just waiting for the right time to do it. “You feeling chilly at all, baby?”

A nod comes from the boy in front of him.

“No, no. You know how this works: verbal response, every time, darling.”

“Yes, Liam. Cold, frigid.”

“I know. I turned on the aircon, it should be hovering just above freezing. There’s a reason for it, love. Because I know that you like it to hurt. You love it when I put you in the bath and pull you out and spank your arse raw, don’t you?” Liam doesn't wait for a response before he continues, “But I’ve been trying for so long to think of new ways to hurt you. Creative ways that won’t leave any marks because your boss can be a nosey little fucker when he wants to be. Ways that are especially fun for me because it can be a little hard to hold you down when you're wet and writhing in pain, but I think I found it. The cold. Something that will hurt your skin to the touch while making your body work to keep your core temperature up. It’s gonna hurt, baby, and you're gonna love it. You’re gonna go so far under.”

There isn't a response from Zayn and Liam has to say, this is usually his favourite part of the scene. Telling Zayn all the ways he's going to be in pain, to see the realization that sets into Zayn's face when he talks through everything that is going to happen. Zayn knows that Liam’s going to hurt him, he knows that Liam’s going to enjoy making him suffer, and Zayn knows that he’s expected to stay still for it. He’s nervous, he’s terrified, but most importantly, he’s excited.

“Up,” Liam calls, and Zayn is quick to stand up and place his hands behind his back. “Always so wonderful for me.”

There’s something being tied around Zayn’s eyes suddenly, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch and Liam’s pleasantly surprised. It’s black and Zayn can’t see anything, there’s a hand on his shoulder gently nudging him in different directions until he’s flush against a wall. It’s colder here than it was on the floor and Zayn tenses to counteract the new onslaught of it. He knows what position Liam will call him to, but he also knows he is not, under any circumstances to anticipate Li’s actions. It's never a good idea. So he waits. He waits until Li tells him to take off his pants and present before he obeys, pulling down the pants on his hips and blindly folding them before he places them between his legs and pulls his feet apart and back a few steps from the wall. His chest falls forward to rest against the wall, his hands resting on the sides of his head and his back arched. He hears Liam purr in delight. Zayn thinks he's already slipping and he's yet to even be hit.

“I’m gonna warm you up here, darlin’.” He hears a laugh fall from Liam's lips. “Well, I’ll warm you arse up.”

The cold had set in by then, the blood flow wasn't as strong as it once had been to his extremities, instead concentrated on keeping his core temperature up. He bites into his cheek with the first stroke to his bum. Liam was right, the dry cold cutting into his skin is bitter and profound. The second is no better, and when the third hit lands in the exact same spot as the previous hits, Zayn cries out. When Li’s hand leaves his arse, it was attacked with a deep to the bone cold that Zayn isn't prepared for. Liam moves to a different area to target, leaving blooming red spots in his wake. By the time Liam is up to 30, Zayn has stopped counting how many he's been given. The pain is bleeding into numbness, he's thinking that maybe he isn't in his bedroom anymore, that somehow he has been moved to a forest in the middle of the night.

Zayn jumps in surprise when Liam branchs upward and there's a stinging hand print left on his upper arm. “You're not going anywhere yet, boy, there's so much more for you here.”

Zayn doesn't respond, it isn't a question and higher brain function is not available for speaking.

“Give me your colour, Darlin’.”

“Green, Sir. Thank you for asking, Sir.”

Liam continues then, marking up Zayn’s bum and thighs, occasionally lifting a slap to his arms or the inside of his side when he could tell Zayn is floating up and away from him. Not yet, Li thinks. He moves to the meat of Zayn’s thighs before he's truly satisfied with the area he's warmed up. Liam's positive his boy is down, so he puts a firm hand on Zayn's neck and squeezes. It’s not hard enough to really hurt, but uncomfortable enough to gain his full attention.

“I'm going to get your cane, Darlin. And you're not going to move a muscle. Do you understand, I want an answer.”

“No, Sir. I me-mean, yes, Sir. Fuck!” Zayn's growing increasingly frustrated at his own inability to speak. “No Sir, I will not move and yes, Sir, I do understand. Thank you, Sir.”

Liam kisses his temple then and disappears for a moment. There's the sound of Li rooting around for his came in the background but Zayn is too far off to recognize the sound of footprints coming towards him. He's too far gone to realise that Liam is right behind him with a cane. He's not prepared for the first strike. His arse had the chance to cool off again, and Zayn thinks he could have just been sliced in half by the amount of pain that was coming from a single stroke of a wooden dowel.

“Count for me.” Liam prompts lowly. Zayn bites out the number one.

Two, three, four and five follow in a blur. If there’s one implement Zayn truly loathes, it’s that bloody cane. It’s not the kind of pain that he likes, and he doesn’t quite know how to articulate it, but he prefers widespread pain over a single line of isolated and intense pain. But he knows Liam likes it, he knows it’s one of Liam’s favourite things to do to Zayn, and he knows it’s worth putting up with it for a few hits because Liam always rewards him if he can get through it. Liam saves it for when he is truly off and the pain is easier to interpret as pleasure for Zayn. But Jesus fuck, does he hate it.

After ‘twelve’ left Zayn’s mouth, there’s a clattering sound he’s vaguely aware of and Zayn is surprised when a warmth comes from behind him. It hurts. He wasn’t expecting it to be painful, but the brush of Li’s jumper against his abused arse feels like the scrape of a thousands dull needles, it feels as though fire is spreading up his back as Liam encroaches on his space. Zayn forces his body close to the wall again to escape, but he can’t get away from it and he wants the contact that Li is giving to him, but there's something completely debilitating about realising the touch he craves most is painful to him.

“Hurts doesn’t it, the heat? You’ve been starved of fresh blood in your arse to keep your core temperature and because of it, your veins have constricted, your nerves are hyper sensitive and compressed. But that's not why it hurts so badly, the pain is all a mind game. You're telling yourself it hurts, is all ” Zayn doesn't doubt Liam spent weeks researching everything. Took the time to plan out where he was going to strike and how long it would take for the cold temperature to really get to him. He's probably sitting on this for a while, too, waiting for just the right time to put his plan into action.

“Y’know, someone told me the best form of pain comes from heat, but I think they were wrong. Cause with heat, you can do some pretty serious damage very quickly, but with the cold, it's a slow, burning kind of pain, mind the pun. It requires so much more patience and trust. But you aren't particular, are you? As long as there's pain you’re here for it, isn't that right?”

Zayn understands all of the words individually, but he can’t quite make out the definition of the sentences Liam has spoken to him. It’s a bit jumbled and all he can think about is walking in a forest. He recognizes the question, though, when Li asked him if it hurt. “Yes, Liam. So cold, too hot. Please, Sir.”

“You’re really gone, aren’t you, darling?”

“Gone where?” Zayn asks, he hasn’t left the spot Liam pushed him into. There’s a particularly harsh pinch to his nipple, and Zayn realises with a start he didn’t address his Dom properly. “Sir! Gone where, Sir? I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Better."

Liam guides away from the wall now, his sure hand squeezing the back of Zayn's neck directing him, but he can’t remember the landscape of his own room. With the blindfold covering his eyes, it’s easier for Zayn to be falling into a different set of circumstances, he feels as if somehow he were navigating a snow covered forest, his feet are so cold now, he could be walking on carpet, burning lava or ice and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Zayn wonders, for a minute, if his nose fell off from the cold if Liam would stop long enough to reattach it before he continued on. His thighs are beings pressed up against something, and Liam is telling him to lay his chest over it. Zayn thinks it could be their bed, or the desk in the corner, he can hardly be trusted to differentiate textures right now.

“You want me to take some of the heat away, fine. I’ll add some cold. How does that sound, baby?”

“Please, Liam.”

“Please what, darlin’? Please make you colder?” Liam takes his time with each syllable, it's condescending and teasing. He's in no rush to get an articulated answer from his boy because he already has a plan.

Zayn doesn’t know what’s happening anymore, he doesn't know what the question is. He's afraid to answer if it means that Liam will pull away or stay still. He doesn't know what he wants.

“I’ll take the heat away from you, baby you don’t worry. You just lay there and be good for me, darlin’.”

Liam steps away from his boy for a minute to get the mug he had placed on the chest earlier. There’s ice clashing together with every step he takes but Zayn is too far gone to identify that sound, especially when Liam’s back, putting a hand on the crest of his bum. It’s burning now, the heat and friction he’s causing by rubbing back and forth, skin on skin.

“Come back to me for a moment,” Li says, the touch he uses allowing Zayn to pull a bit out of his head, “Zayn, Darlin’ what’s your colour?”

"Green, Sir "

“Good boy."

“Thank you, Sir.” Zayn rests his body back against the bed, searching again for that place he was before Liam called him back. Zayn can't put a name on it, but he's certain there were trees there, something with snow and he's positive there were wolves next to him at some point. He wants to go back to that place, the peace and gentleness in his sanctuary of pain and turmoil. 

Liam takes a piece of ice from the mug and runs it along his spine when he can see that his boy is lost in his head again. Zayn jerks underneath it, fighting to get away and stay perfectly still at the same time. A noise is pulled out of him, and Liam knows it can't be pleasant to deal with, already being chilled to the bone with another layer of cold being painted across his back. Liam spent the next few cubes to cover every centimetre of Zayn's back in another layer before he circles one round his rim. There's a high pitched noise that rips its way from the back of Zayn’s throat and Liam didn’t know if it’s better described as a squeak or a hiss. But the semantics, he decided, aren't all that important in the grand scheme of things. Liam carefully pushs in, fully aware that cold muscles don’t stretch well, and he looking at Zayn’s face, searching for any signs of lips starting to form safe words. They never come, though, and Zayn continues to writhe away from the new intrusion. Liam thinks about taunting him, but decided he’s been cruel enough for the time being. He pushs in deeper, centimetre by centimetre until there’s nothing left to hold onto and lets it be sucked in by Zayn's hole.

“Up on your hands and knees.” Liam orders after he pushes the last of the ice cube in. Liam’s pretty sure he hears a weak and slurred ‘yes, Sir.’ so he helps his boy out, supporting Zayn’s hips while he struggles to position himself on unsturdy limbs. Liam keeps him there for another fifteen minutes, fingering his boy along with the ice that's already been lost inside his hole. He adds some lube to his fingers and stretches Zayn open gently, playing with his prostate and bringing a hand around and wanking Zayn off in time with his perfectly aimed jabs. It's an odd sensation, Zayn registers, the nice burn of being stretched open when there's ice melting and dropping out his hole, he doesn't know if he likes.

Zayn doesn't ever want this to stop, he wants to be split open on Liam's fingers forever, but suddenly Liam pulls his fingers out and starts slapping at his rim. It hurts like hell, it's that pain that is specific to a combination of impact and cold again and Zayn doesn't like that he knows that. There's words being spoken and Zayn can hear the inflection in his voice, there's a question of some sort in there. He opens his ears enough to listen and Liam reminds him of what will happen if he comes without permission. It's then Zayn realises with a start there's a puddle beneath his cock, that he feels like he could come at any second. 

“Please, please Sir. May I come?”

“I don't know. Do you think you've been good enough, boy? Do you think you've earned it?” Liam knows the him constantly rubbing Zayn's prostate isn't helping right now, but with moans and the squirming, Liam couldn't help himself.”

“Gotta, Sir- mhmm fuck, please Sir.”

“How do you ask permission?”

“If it pleases you, Si-Sir, may your boy hav-have an - ah, ah, nihhh - have an orgasm, Sir?” Zayn had intended there to be a please at the end, but he broke into a sob before he could get it out.

“No.”

“Please Sir, gonna, so close. Please!”

“No.” Liam shouted, accented his dominance with a smarting slap to Zayn's arse and removed his fingers completely. They're gone for a second before something unbearably cold is brought back. “I’m gonna stuff you full of ice,” Liam explains as he starts pushing a second cube into the tight, frigid rim, “And you’re gonna get me off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of your’s until you swallow me down while your arse is being frozen from the inside out. How does that sound to you, darlin’?”

“Sir--” Zayn’s pretty sure his hole is frozen shut as another cube is pushed in. It doesn’t hurt anymore, it just a dull pulsing sensation buzzing in his veins all around his body.

“I know, you’re concerned about when it’s your turn to come, boy. But you’re gonna take care of me first and we’ll see if you do good enough to get yourself off. Who knows, it might just be too cold to even get yourself off, hmm?”

Liam cut off a noise coming out of Zayn's mouth by shoving two of his fingers between his teeth. Zayn sucks on them as if his life depended on it and for a moment, Liam felt bad about being so harsh on him. He brought a second cube to the boy’s taint, rubbing it round before pushing it in. There was a third cube fit snugly in place, followed by a fourth and a fifth, Liam deciding to stop only after a sixth one was inserted.

"Open." Liam demanded after pulling his fingers out and Zayn obeyed immediately. "Suck."

And Zayn did. In the expert way that Liam had trained him to do so. There had been weeks of Zayn giving blow jobs to phallic shaped objects until Liam let Zayn get his lips around the real thing. And really, Zayn appreciates the suspense that was built up around it, but he does think that weeks of 'training’ was a bit much, especially when he'd never received any complaints regarding his technique before. Nonetheless, Liam took the time to educate Zayn thoroughly in the way he likes getting head, and Zayn loves getting the opportunity to wrap his lips round Liam's prick and be fucked. It truly is one of his favourite things to do in a scene.

And really, Liam admires Zayn's dedication to sucking on his cock. He never reaches a hand down to stroke his own member - not since Liam took the time to educate the boy on seeking his own pleasure through the pleasure of his Dom -, Zayn was never concerned about anything but making sure to flick his tongue at the slit when Li pulls out enough, never pulls back for air until it's absolutely necessary and always, always buries his nose in the hair Liam keeps trimmed tight to his body. At the risk of being blasphemous, Liam would wager receiving blow jobs from Zayn is truly a religious experience. And at the risk of being selfish, Li took his time while he fucked the boy in front of him. He'd ignored his erection the entire evening, left his poor prick straining against the material of his joggers as he caned into Zayn's arse and as he played with his boy. It was unjust that he's only now receiving the benefits of the work he put in tonight, really.

"Jesus, babe, so good." Liam gasped out, the heat of his boy’s mouth a welcome contrast to the cold of the room. Zayn moaned from the depths of his throat and Liam could feel the vibrations. He pulls the blindfold off his boy's eyes and moves his hands down to hold onto him by the ears to gain new leverage. It shifted Zayn’s jaw, though, and teeth scraped roughly against Liam's prick. “Put your teeth away, boy.” Liam demands, swatting at Zayn's cheek with an open palm. It wasn't hard enough to really hurt, most assuredly not to leave a mark, just stark enough to pull Zayn's attention to his mistake.

The slap of Li's palm against his face sent Zayn deeper into his forest. No teeth, he can do that. So Zayn opens his jaw wider and pulls his shoulders closer to the mattress beneath him to get a better angle. 'Good boy,' he hears and Zayn doesn't know if he's ever been so far gone before. Li is pulling and pushing on his ears, moving his mouth back and forth on his cock and every part of Zayn could only focus on sucking and slurping, that he has one job to fulfill in the moment and it's tending to Liam’s cock.

“So hot,” Liam moans from above, “so, mhmmm, so, so good.”

His sentences are getting shorter as time passes, less precise and riddled with more pauses Li takes to steady himself. He’s close, and Zayn is prepared when Liam shoves in completely, suddenly. Zayn’s nose being bent with the pressure on the back of his head from Liam’s hands. ‘Jesus, Zayn, so good.’ Li muttered as he rode out the last of his orgasm, thrusting as deep as possible a few times. Zayn starts to see little flashes of light towards the end, but he thinks he can hold off on breathing for a few extra minutes if that means being blessed with the image above him. The angle he’s looking up at Liam with, the way there’s just a flash of light from the bedside lamp that’s been left on, there’s a few drops of sweat beading on his face, even though Zayn’s absolutelycertain it should be impossible to be sweating with the heat lacking in the room. As Liam pulls out, Zayn is trying to keep all the come in his mouth. He wants to swallow it all, but he's sputtering for a breath, gasping to make up the for the lack of oxygen during the minutes previous.

“Always so good at that, boy,” Liam compliments and Zayn's heart swells to twice its normal size with the praise, “What’s your colour, darlin’?”

“Gr-green, Sir.”

“You’re being such a lovely boy for me tonight, Zayn.”

“Was, Sir, was I - Was it good, Liam?”

“Oh Darlin', the best. Such a beautiful, wonderful boy for me tonight. Let’s take care of you now.”

Zayn collapses a bit at the words Li spoke. He's exhausted, it feels like the edges of his vision are blurring.He only wants to have a snack and go to bed. An orgasm sounds like just too much right now, like the energy it would take from him doesn't exist. “Don’t wanna,” he whimpers, broken and soft. Liam isn’t quite sure he’s heard correctly, but it’s confirmed when Zayn whispered “Please don’t make me.”

Liam knows that coming doesn’t have to be Zayn’s motivator to go down, he realises an orgasm isn’t the only end goal, but it’s rather something they both enjoy as a way to bring the scene to a close. And with the way he was begging for one just prior, Liam was concerned, “What’s your colour, love?” he asked, fully prepared for an answer  other than green.

“Green, Sir. Thank you for asking, Sir.” Zayn returns immediately, “Please, don’t wanna come.”

“You’ll take what I give you, boy. And you’ll thank me for it when I’m done. Do you understand?” And Li really only says it because he cannot and will not allow Zayn start making demands while he’s down. Liam does, however, move to the drawer in his bedside table and grab his metre in order to return to the boy laying on the bed and pulls his hand out from underneath him. “Zayn, I need you to come back to me for a moment.”

“Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Liam.”

“You’re such a good boy, Love. So proud of everything you’ve done tonight. I’m gonna say purple and test your blood. Is that alright?”

“I’m - Sir, there's no need. Green.”

“Okay, but I’m going to test your blood sugar, love. I just want to make sure. Alright?”

“Yes.”

As soon as Zayn agrees, Liam starts the familiar process, 

Pulling a strip from the cylinder,   
inserting it into the machine,   
waiting for the beep,   
pricking his finger,   
squeezing a drop of blood,  
depositing it on the strip.

There’s five seconds between when the blood is deposited and the beep, but it feels like so much more when room is silent. 3,1 it read.

“You’re a little low, love.”

“No, Sir. I’m fine.”

"You’re not, Zayn. 3,1." Liam turns the device so he can see. “You’re going to be okay, love. I’ve got some glucose tabs for you if you want, or I brought some Gatorade up with us if you’d prefer to drink.”

"No, Sir. I’m fine."

"This isn’t a debate, boy, and you’ll do as you’re told. Have I made myself clear?” There is a bite to his tone that Liam tends to avoid when Zayn is down, but this isn’t something he’ll ever waver on.

“Yes, Sir.” Zayn responds.

He opens his mouth immediately, accepting the glucose tab that Liam presses to his tongue. He waits until Liam pulls his fingers out and chews the tab. When Liam prompts him to repeat, hesitates a moment.

“May I- Sir, s’it alright if I drink?” Zayn asks after a long pause, he needs more than what the tabs can give him.

“Yeah, darlin’.” Liam responds instantly, finding the bottle and offering it. “Slow sips, yeah?” 

Liam thinks if he squinted, he’d see a few tears in his boyfriend’s eyes. And it’s not that he’s never seen Zayn cry before, but these don’t seem to be good tears and Liam feels wholly responsible for them. So he lays down next to Zayn, flipping the plaint boy over to his back and pulls his arms to rest crossed on his torso and resting with Li’s arms around him. “Shhh, baby. You did such a good job tonight, such a good boy. You’re okay.” It’s those words that release the floodgates, it seemed, because Zayn was full on sobbing seconds after Liam spoke. Liam just holds him through it, pulling out his mobile to start slowly warming up the room through an app. He’s rubbing his boy’s arms, maintaining skin to skin contact as he systematically goes over all of Zayn’s body. He’s gentle as possible when he goes over abused flesh, and he knows he’s only adding to the pain now that he’s warming Zayn up, but in the end, it’s better and they both know it.

Over the next hour, Liam has raised the heat steadily, adding a sheet, then throw and finally a duvet over them. Eventually Zayn is radiating heat, and Liam is convinced he’s thoroughly okay, just working through the process of coming out of subspace. He’s rubbed feeling back into Zayn's flesh and then rubbed cream into the marked flesh of his bottom and thighs. Zayn doesn’t stop crying for forty five minutes, and just because Liam knows it happens sometimes when Zayn accidentally mixes subspace and having a hypoglycemic episode doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to watch. Liam feels like there’s something more he can do, but he knows it better than to leave to get anything. He knows he’s best right where he is, cuddling his boy in close and telling him how amazing he was tonight. He knows Zayn doesn’t need anything from him right now other than kind words and his reassuring presence.

Liam is firm on testing his blood every twenty minutes, making sure it was came up as intended and maintained. There were four strips that Zayn will complain were ‘wasted’ later tomorrow, but Liam isn’t concerned about that in the moment. Liam will apologise anyways, because he knows that Zayn is grateful for what he’s done. He knows Zayn has a difficult time admitting that he needed help. Zayn’s just started stretching out his own joints when Liam asks his question. There’s so many questions Liam wants to ask right now, but he knows that Zayn will talk when he wants to. Right now, there’s only question he gets to demand an answer to.

“Do you need anything from me, love?”

“Stay.”

Liam responds with a soft kiss to his neck and repeats the words he’s been saying for the last hour, “Not going anywhere, darlin’. Such a good boy tonight, I’m not leaving your side.”

It’s quiet for another half hour before Zayn says anything. “Go ahead.” he says almost so silently Liam misses it, but Li never will disregard the opportunity to ask his questions.

“Where did you go tonight?”

It took a bit for him to respond, almost like Zayn needed some time to decide if he's going to veto the question. “A forest. It was so cold, there were like, wolves running round me.” He’s silent for another moment, and then asks, “Did I quote anything tonight?”

“Kind of. It was one lyric and then you skipped some before you gave me just one more. ‘Out on the empty mountain, under the lonely moon. Under the blue sky.’ is what you said to me. Told me your colour was blue the first time I asked. I asked you to tell me more, but you only told me one more. It was: ‘With all this danger upon danger, Why do people come here who live at a safe distance?’. Google couldn’t quite figure out what you were quoting.”

“I don't remember what I was on about, Sir.”

“That's alright, darlin’,” Liam soothes, carding fingers through his hair

They’re both silent for a few more minutes before Zayn decides to speak “I got an email today,” he looked like he regrets it for a second and Liam didn't dare say anything yet. There was more to that statement and he knew it, “from my boss. Said I got a promotion.”

“That's- Zayn, that’s great.”

“Other people lost their jobs and I got a promotion. That's not great.”

“You feel guilty?”

“I feel- Like, I took more than I should get, cause, like everyone’s positions are redundant, it’s just- I don't know how I feel.”

“Okay, love.”

“I was expecting to be fired. I wasn't expecting to get a raise.”

“You're okay, love. You've been working so hard the last few weeks, you deserve it.”

“Okay.” It wasn't, but Zayn doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

“Alright, darling. Do you want a bath, or do you want to go to bed.”

“Bed.” The response was immediate, but Li noticed him playing with the edge of the sheet, his cheeks heated into a blush. “Just, got stuff I need first.”

“I know, love. Would it be okay if I sent you off to the loo while I grabbed something for you?”

“Stay, please?” he pleaded with Liam

“Okay, love.” Liam reassured, petting down Zayn’s spine a few more times before scooping the lad into his arms.

He carried Zayn to the loo after that, having him use the toilet and wash his face before Liam him guides him in the direction of the kitchen down stairs. Zayn is deposited into a chair at the breakfast bar as Liam gets to work making him a toastie, ham and cheese because he knows that’s Zayn’s favourite thing to eat before he goes to bed. Zayn’s sliding back into himself more while his snack is cooking. He’s joking with Li, telling him about some of the drama at the office, he’s laughing, talking about the way he’s planning on getting twattle-faced the absolute next opportunity he has enough time to do so. He’s making plans for after work tomorrow with Li and Jamie because the other lad is staying in town for the next couple days. Liam catches a smile for the first time in a few weeks and almost cried with relief the second he saw it - he didn’t dare call attention to it, though. He tests once again, and wants it noted that he doesn’t need to and is only doing so because Liam is demanding him to. His number is 5,8 and Liam is reassured when the number popped up. When Zayn was done eating, Li guided his boy through another injection and taking his medication. The two are tucked into bed by half eleven, Zayn holding on tightly to Li’s sleepshirt, and Liam being equally attached to the pulse beating in his ear, his head being placed on Zayn’s chest, just above his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the hits, and kuddos and comments if you enjoyed. Questions about T1D and diabetes in general are encouraged. To anyone out there fighting the good fight, keep on keeping on.


End file.
